


Game Over

by BangtanBoi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: But maybe not, Gen, Langst, bc klance is life, implied klance, keith is only briefly mentioned oops, like lance dies, these tags are a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BangtanBoi/pseuds/BangtanBoi
Summary: Lance had always enjoyed playing video games. Now it was time to realise that this was most definitely not a game.





	Game Over

**Author's Note:**

> So this was actually a piece for a mock English GCSE at school and I felt it was worthy enough to post online (I've actually added some more bits in, as 40 minutes is less than ideal for writing fanfic). The prompt you had to write from was 'write about a game that went horribly wrong'. It's short and kind of sucks but I hope you enjoy it.

Lance had always enjoyed playing video games.

So much so, that his mother was always scolding him, drawing back the curtains in the dark confines of his room, confiscating the controller.  
‘Mama!’ He’d always protest but it didn’t make a difference.

This was but a distant memory now, his mama thousands of light years away, whole solar systems apart- he’d always wonder if she missed him, endless nights spent in the observatory, tears hastily wiped away before they had the chance to fall.

The homesickness was only one of the side effects of his new life; he'd also become well acquainted with danger and had even brushed shoulders with death.

He remembered waking up in the castle's medical bay, a solitary figure asleep by his bedside. Keith. Lance couldn't tell how long it had been- hours, days, months, perhaps- since he ended up in the med bay, however the shadows of missed sleep hung beneath Keith's closed eyes, clinging like bruises to the pale skin, deep purple and contrasting. His unruly hair was even more tousled than usual, in need of a wash (and most definitely a trim however, that was matter of taste and Lance's taste did not approve at all). His red jacket creased as he folded his arms, somewhat protectively, across his chest in his usual stance, even in sleep.

He'd found it strange. Keith, his rival and team mate, by his bedside. It was actually the perfect opportunity to tease the boy- he'd left himself vulnerable, asleep while visiting Lance of people- Lance would never let him live it down. However, he decided against this. It was almost...nice. The moody paladin would never be caught dead admitting he cared for Lance but Lance had slipped through his defences and decided he liked this side of Keith. It was nice.

Their strange sort of friendship always left him puzzled. Always bickering and fighting and turning everything into a competition, an outsider would assume the pair hated each other however, briefly placed hands on shoulders and compliments uttered after particularly hard fights proved otherwise. As he groggily counted the few freckles dusting the sleeping boy's cheeks (which he'd never been close enough to see, or if he had, he'd never noticed, but decided he liked them) he began to realise. 

Fighting the Galra empire had been the last thing he would imagine himself doing. Yet, here he was, responsibility beyond measure thrust upon him. He often found himself struggling to keep up, drowning in an anxious sea of worry, doubt heavily anchoring him down, dragging him deeper beneath the surface. He'd briefly manage to break through, before being swallowed by another wave, each one bigger than the last. 

He'd always wondered what people meant when they said their life flashed before their eyes when nearing death. Sometimes he'd think of it like a movie- a reel of film projecting his life before his eyes and he was the main character. Other times he thought of it like a dream. Hazy and yet somehow clear, memory after memory flooding back, reality indistinguishable from fantasy.

And as he laid there, on the cold dirt of some alien planet, remembering both everything and nothing all at once, floods of nostalgia followed by waves of happiness, sadness, the time he fell out of a tree and broke his arm, all the nights he spent by himself at the garrison simulator, desperately trying to beat Keith, all the insults rallied between them, about his reckless behaviour, his hair, his face, his-

As he laid there, in the arms of the one person who he claimed to absolutely hate, painting both of their armour a deep crimson, he realised.

As he laid there, listening to the usually deafening roar of fighter planes becoming now only fading drones, to Keith's voice, hoarse and spilling over with emotion- unintelligible, crying, mumbling, shouting his name, shouting for him- laced with worry and tinted with desperation and fear, he understood.

As he laid there, life ebbing away despite Keith's best efforts to catch it, to stop it from spilling out of Lance's almost lifeless body, trying and failing as it seeped between his fingers- it dawned on him. Just like all the many games he once spent all his time playing- full of heroes and battles and danger- it was coming to an end. However, as he laid there, he realised: he realised that this was not a game. This was real life.

And now it was game over.

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note- as this was a piece for school I decided to say medical bay rather than pod, as the teachers would be like 'the quiznak is a pod??'.


End file.
